


make you feel it

by tagteamme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Happy Birthday Keith, Hard M, Humor, Lap Sex, Lapdance, M/M, Pining, Stripper Shiro (Voltron), dont tell me what song you listened to while reading, hard m toeing that e rating line, i don't know i have no iq left, i wont tell you what song i listened to while writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 11:30:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21298754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagteamme/pseuds/tagteamme
Summary: Keith's drunken mistakes come back to haunt him.Keith’s infinitely distracted by the fact that  his favourite classmate from one of his electives has rang his doorbell with a smile at 9 P.M on a Thursday night and is currently wearing both a bemused expression and a rather impressive two-piece rendition of the Air Force uniform from Top Gun.There’s a very large possibility that Keith’s dreaming.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 125
Kudos: 597





	make you feel it

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to all my homies putting in that work....
> 
> title from by 'feel it' by jacquees, it's been a long time since I've written something primarily in a 3AM craze and I feel refreshed

Keith hasn’t properly showered in three days.

In his defence, it’s midterms and he’s never had his ass kicked this hard by all his courses simultaneously. Showering with soap is definitely at the top of his to-do list after his professors stop punting him around like a deflated ball. Preferably, it’ll be followed by an eternal slumber. Keith’s not normally like this— he’s a clean guy who stays on top of his hygiene. It’s just been crazy busy.

Keith wants to tell this to the man who stands in front of him as an explanation as to why he answered the door in his current state. However, Keith’s infinitely distracted by the fact that his favourite classmate from one of his electives has rang his doorbell with a smile at 9 P.M on a Thursday night and is currently wearing both a bemused expression and a rather impressive two-piece rendition of the Air Force uniform from Top Gun. There’s a very large possibility that Keith’s dreaming.

“What’s up?” Keith manages to squeeze out as casually as possible. 

He tries not to think about how he’s standing in front of his crush in ugly camo shorts and an orange tank top. Keith’s not too stylish to begin with but this is definitely a new low. He might have dressed different if Shiro knocking on his door in the early night had been on his list of expected occurrences

“I…” Shiro starts, trails off. There’s a ghost of a smile still on his face but it falls off completely as he sees something over Keith’s shoulder. Keith tries to give him an encouraging look that might look more like a wince. It gets interrupted with a loud clap on his back courtesy of his roommate.

“Yo, who’s the- uh oh,” Lance’s smile freezes as he comes up behind Keith. “Uh.”

“What?” Keith asks, but Lance doesn’t reply. Instead he continues to stare at Shiro, expression growing rapidly more manic.

“Uh,” Lance’s lips don’t really move as he speaks. “Weren’t you supposed to be here for next Friday?”

“The booking said tonight,” Shiro says, and for some reason his expression is starting to slowly mirror Lance’s. The tips of his ears are pinking and it looks incredibly adorable. Keith tries not to focus on it, much like he’s trying not to focus on how Shiro looks like every fantasy Keith has ever had rolled into one. “Why do you guys live so far off campus?”

“What are you two talking about?” Keith cuts in, incredibly confused. No one bothers giving him an answer. Lance and Shiro continue to stare at each other like a pair of nervous dogs so Keith tries something else and offers, “Would you like to come in?”

Lance hisses and nudges Keith, a surprise given that Keith would expect that reaction if he _ didn’t _ invite Shiro in.

“Yeah— I guess?” Shiro blinks. Keith’s never heard him sound so unsure; Shiro’s voice normally radiates so much confidence that it’s intimidating. “You guys booked me. We don’t really do refunds.”

“Wait what?” Lance exclaims and tries to shove Keith aside. Keith shakes him off and Lance looks indignant. “But you showed up on the wrong day!”

“They ask you to check the date before confirming and then they email it to you,” Shiro shrugs. It’s an attempt to be casual but there’s so much trepidation in the action that Keith can feel it roll off of him. Shiro looks like he’s just barely stopping himself from withering on the spot. Somehow this isn’t exactly the way Keith imagined Shiro’s first visit to his place going. 

To be fair, Keith’s original and favourite daydream of inviting Shiro over for a study session which turns into something more is very unrealistic as well.

“I can arrange something if there was an honest mistake,” Shiro says before his eyes flit to Keith. “Or uh, if you want someone else instead.”

Shiro shifts uncomfortably as he speaks and it’s then that Keith’s gaze finally drops down to the duffle bag and black boombox Shiro’s holding in one hand. There’s a brief moment of confusion before everything starts to click into place. The pleasant smile Keith has been trying to plaster on freezes in place.

Keith remembers. His eyes widen and start to bug out and Keith feels like evaporating on the spot.

Oh _ god_, Keith remembers.

“Might as well come in,” Lance offers, finally managing to push Keith out of the way. “No refunds and all.”

* * *

At the core of it all, Keith is a simple man. He sees a free spot in a notoriously easy junior course during course selection and he takes it. He comes in late on the first day and somehow still finds seating in the back, and he doesn’t count his eggs. A tall, statuesque senior sneaks in after him and asks if the seat beside him is free and Keith nods and secretly yearns for him for the better part of the semester.

He and his friends get piss-drunk one night and Lance finds a guy who looks a lot like Keith’s crush on a website for booking local strippers and Keith gives a thumbs up before he falls out of the booth and onto the floor.

A simple man.

Therefore the amount of emotion swirling in him right now is absolutely overwhelming. The majority of it is awkwardness because Keith’s currently sandwiched on their plaid sofa between his shithead of a roommate and his crush, who happens to be dressed like a wet dream. He guesses that’s the point though, and also the reason he’s feeling a strong undercurrent of horniness. Ideally, Keith would feel nothing at all.

“Got any preferences?” Lance asks the room at large as he scrolls through the same Netflix for the tenth time. They don’t have their arm chair anymore because Keith traded it for a gently used motorcycle helmet, so the three of them are stuck sharing one couch. Lance is the one who suggested Netflix, grumbling something about wasted money.

“I mean, maybe I can get them to use the money as a credit if you guys want another dancer?” Shiro had helpfully suggested after Lance shot down Shiro’s suggestion that he do what he actually came for and perform. Lance had firmly said they were out of tequila and there was no way he could watch that happen sober.

Before Lance could retort, Keith had blurted out a “Why, what’s wrong with you?” because his brain to mouth connection had long fried. Shiro had looked back at the television with an indiscernible expression and Keith prayed for spontaneous combustion. 

“Literally any part of this night is your choice,” Shiro shrugs at Lance’s question. Pressed this close, Keith’s pretty sure that Shiro’s bicep is wider than Keith is. The physical evidence of it is going to send him to an early grave, provided that the situation at hand doesn’t get him first.

They don’t have much in the way of snacks save for a bag of hot Doritos, due to both Lance and Keith’s inability to budget and the fact that last month, their third roommate left them high and dry when he decided to move in with his girlfriend. It’s the reason they’re now in a tiny apartment fifteen minutes away from school, as opposed to the matchbox studio apartments that are closer to campus. Keith has no idea how they’ve afforded to have Shiro hang out with them.

It kills Keith a little that the first time he gets to hang out with his crush, he’s paying him a triple digit amount. Or Lance is. Keith’s not quite sure whose card they used and he’s too scared to find out.

As they sit in uncomfortable silence, Keith tries not to think about how nothing about this situation has made his crush die down a little. He kind of hoped it would’ve because Keith’s got it _ bad _ for Shiro. A lot of people do because Shiro is built like a statue and has a face that could only be made by something divine.

But Keith also knows how Shiro looks like when he’s thinking about food more than he is about class. He’s been on the receiving end of an amused look whenever their bird-like professor says something extremely stupid. He’s even seen Shiro doze off during class. 

The soft relaxed look on Shiro’s face before Slav caught him and ripped him a new one is something Keith will cherish forever.

They’ve run into each other on the campus cafe a few times and have hung out, but Keith’s been long meaning to ask Shiro out either romantically or platonically. Keith doesn’t think he has the guts for the former nor the restraint for the latter. 

Given the trajectory of his general existence, Keith shouldn’t be surprised that the first time they hang out outside of school is because he and his dumbass roommate drunkenly ordered a stripper. 

“Alright, well,” Lance says, standing up abruptly. Maybe ten minutes have passed since they let Shiro in, but it feels like ten lifetimes. Lance looks like he has seen deep suffering when he turns to the two of them. “I’d rather die than stay here so I’m going to go to Hunk and Shay’s. Catch you never.”

And just like that, Lance hops over the couch and strides the ten feet to their front door. Keith’s currently calcified from mortification so he’s unable to protest. He’s also frozen in his spot pressed up against Shiro and doesn’t come to his senses till the door to their apartment slams shut. Belatedly, Keith shuffles over.

“Sorry,” Keith blurts out. “This is awkward. You could probably be out there getting paid more.”

Shiro looks like he agrees. He also looks like he wishes some sentient creature would stick its hand out from between the stiff cushions of Keith’s couch and drag him into the folds. That could also just be Keith self-projecting.

“It’s okay,” Shiro replies with a lot more kindness than this situation deserves. “This is not the most awkward situation I’ve been in.”

“Really?” Keith asks and Shiro presses his lips together, nodding.

“My ex’s fiance ended up in the city for his bachelor,” he says grimly with the eyes of a man that’s seen war. “He was a shitty tipper too.”

That does sound infinitely worse than showing up at Keith’s. Keith can’t help but give a short laugh that he immediately tries to renege on. He ends up sounding like an angry cat and Shiro gives him a concerned look. 

“I...we…” God, words are hard. Keith’s not a man of many, but he wants to say at least something intelligent when his crush is sitting on his couch. “It was supposed to be for next week. We were really drunk.”

It’s definitely not smooth. Keith tries not to look at Shiro as he says this. Shiro shifts on the couch and out of the corner of his eye, Keith sees him adjusting himself. He also sees a shadow in Shiro’s pants and Keith immediately tries to shove his brain in the other direction before it starts screaming at him to look for a dick print. 

He reminds himself that he has the musk of an exam-crazed student right now and that even if he observes it, there’s a fat chance Shiro will let him touch it.

“Oh?” Shiro raises an eyebrow. “What’s next week?”

“My birthday,” Keith replies, and feels a warm palm on his shoulder. It jostles him a little and Keith turns his head to see Shiro smiling good-naturedly at him.

“Happy birthday man,” Shiro says genially. “Any big plans? Aside from the entertainment?”

Keith wills himself to not go fiery red. Part of him wants to dissolve and part of him wishes that it actually was his birthday so that he could be completely drunk through this interaction. He has a brief vision of being pressed into the couch as Shiro does a slow grind in his lap, all tease as Keith wills himself to not be an embarrassment. 

“Just going out to the bar,” Keith replies. To his credit, his voice doesn’t crack. “You should come. Uh, if you’re not working. I don’t think I can afford another night.”

Shiro lets out a short laugh at this and Keith tries not to preen. He’s made Shiro laugh a couple of times before in class, has made him even snort once while giving Slav a bullshit answer with a deadpan face. 

“I’ll come out if you want me,” Shiro says and despite the situation, Keith wants him to never stop talking. “I’m off next weekend. I feel like I need to take the entire week off from work.”

“Sorry,” Keith winces, and he genuinely feels bad. He’s sure Shiro could be out there raking as much money one can rake on a Thursday instead of sitting in a tiny apartment with a classmate. “I didn’t mean to waste your night. I don’t even have bills to throw at you while we continue to sit on my couch.”

Shiro laughs again and shakes his head. “I’m fine. I meant because school’s so busy. And getting paid to chill with a friend isn’t too bad, even if the friend is the one paying.”

Keith’s not thirteen and socially inhibited anymore and yet hearing Shiro refer to him as a _ friend _ and not an acquaintance flutters something in him. That also might just be the remnants of his body being extremely aware of Shiro’s proximity to him. 

“Don’t break the illusion,” Keith jokes weakly and Shiro rolls his eyes before he pats Keith on the shoulder.

“Let me take you out to dinner or something,” Shiro says amicably. “That way you can get back some of your money.”

It’s not a date. Keith resolutely tells himself this is not a date. His bangs are tied in a little fountain on top of his head and his socks don’t match, so there’s no way Shiro’s currently suggesting a date.

“Don’t worry,” Keith says, actively trying not to read too much into it and Shiro edges closer to him on the sofa. Close enough to nudge Keith with his massive shoulder.

“C’mon,” Shiro says. “I know a really good steakhouse on the west end of town.”

“You don’t need to pay because my roommate and I are dipshits,” Keith has to stare ahead at the television again. If he turns to look at Shiro, he knows he will expire on the spot. “That’s on us.”

“I feel like I owe you some for how awkward I was at the beginning. I’m normally not unprofessional like that, I just got tripped up,” Shiro says solemnly and against all limits of his self-control, Keith whips his head around at the phrase _ tripped up_. “I just feel bad for taking advantage of broke college kids.”

A voice in his head that sounds eerily like Hunk and Lance combined tries to harass Keith into asking Shiro what he means by _ tripped up_. It’s also fighting his own voice that’s telling him he’s reading way too much into this.

“Do you?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow of his own. There must be something in that that Shiro likes because Shiro gives him such a rakish grin that Keith thinks he’s going to have to pull a pillow over his lap soon. 

The flush he’s been fighting to keep at bay wins and makes its way up to his face. Shiro grins wider as Keith’s face grows more heated and Keith tries to pluck a smart ass comment out from the recesses of his mind. 

“Mmhmm.” Shiro says, and pauses. Licks his lips. God, Keith’s going to die. “Even if they’re the ones that picked me. On a site that has my face.”

Oh shit. 

Keith thinks alcohol has suppressed that memory but it comes back to him in fuzzy pieces. Shiro’s face. Shiro’s abs. Shiro’s grin. Shiro’s extremely corny stage-name. All of those things had been wildly appealing to Keith after he had drank himself under the table. All of those things are wildly appealing to Keith while he’s stone cold sober too.

“I… was really drunk,” Keith finishes lamely. He knows it. Shiro knows it and his expression starts to shift into something more smug. It’s going to haunt Keith’s fantasies for years. Shiro’s gaze drops a little lower and while Keith’s not sure what he’s looking at, that’s definitely going to linger as well.

At this point, his thirst is probably broadcast all over his face loud enough for his neighbours to hear it. Keith’s never felt more like prey in his life and the way Shiro looks at him makes him squirm. Secretly, he wishes Shiro could look at him like this all the time.

“You know,” Shiro says. “We still have some time left. If you want, I can make good on your booking.”

Everything in Keith’s brain screeches to a halt. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Shiro gives him an encouraging look. “I mean, your roommate just left.”

Shiro is correct. Lance is in fact gone, leaving Keith alone with the apartment. And Shiro. And Shiro’s air force outfit. And his boombox. And his broad shoulders and massive biceps. 

And a smile that looks like it’d spear Keith thoroughly if he’s left alone with it for too long. There’s probably a long list of reasons why Keith should say no. However, Keith doesn’t really have the capacity to use his head right now. 

“Uh,” Keith replies intelligently. Before Keith can even think about a fully-formed answer, before Shiro’s words finish processing, Keith is nodding. Enthusiastically. Belatedly, he thinks he might have to take some precautions.

Keith looks around, and finds the one couch cushion that looks like it sees the inside of a laundry machine. He drags it onto his lap, and looks at Shiro. Specifically, Shiro’s shoulder, because he’s not sure that he can make eye contact with him right now. “Ok, I’m good.”

Shiro looks at the cushion and bursts out laughing. Keith feels hot enough that he’s surprised his ears aren’t billowing smoke. At least there’s one shred of humility left in him, and that shred’s currently coloured his face a deep red.

“Sorry,” Shiro doesn’t look sorry, because his gaze drops down to Keith’s lap and he snorts again. It’s not very encouraging. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I should be professional.”

“We’re friends,” Keith tries to say without sounding like his ego’s wounded. “It’s okay. Not the first time someone’s looked there and found something funny.”

Shiro makes a noise like he’s about to burst out into an even louder peal of laughter, but manages to compose himself last minute. Keith’s still holding out for some indoor lightning to strike him down on the spot. 

“I guess I’d have to see for myself, huh,” Shiro’s voice is amused and this was clearly meant as a joke to pad the experience, but Keith feels the final remaining synapses in his brain short circuit. “Got any song preferences?”

Keith doesn’t think he’ll be able to hear anything over the sound of his adrenaline rushing in his ears. He shakes his head. Shiro shrugs and reaches forward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Keith’s hair before pushing off the sofa onto his feet. Keith doesn’t think he’ll be able to think at all in around three minutes.

Shiro steps out of Keith’s line of sight and Keith cranes his neck, trying to follow him. Shiro brings over the boombox while he fiddles on his phone, whistling something off-key as he scrolls down. He sets the box down on the coffee table, looking up from his phone at Keith.

“You know, I kind of like you like this,” Shiro does a full once-over of Keith, and Keith squirms where he’s sitting. “You always look so dark and mysterious when I see you on campus. It’s nice to see you relaxed like this.”

Joke’s on Shiro because Keith has no actual sense of style. The only reason anyone ever thinks he looks cool is because he covers up with a black leather jacket and biker boots. And because he occasionally rides his beat-down Honda Rebel to school. 

“I’m not mysterious,” Keith mumbles, and Shiro smiles at him. It’s equal parts beckoning and predatory and Keith guesses this is where Shiro’s started to turn himself on for the job. Which belatedly reminds him— “I also uh, don’t have any cash to uh. Throw at you. Or stick anywhere. Or uh, whatever your preferred method of tipping is.”

“Mm,” Shiro replies, running his tongue slowly over his bottom lip as he looks back down at his phone. The movement is hypnotic. 

“No seriously,” Keith rambles, pressing the cushion down further into his lap. “I want to make sure you are uh- I want to make sure you know you are valued and I don’t want to seem like I’m skimping, if this was next week I’d definitely have some-”

“Keith,” Shiro interrupts, glancing up at Keith with a straight face and a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“Stop worrying so much.”

Keith opens his mouth, but no words come out. He closes it and opens it, in hopes to try again. After five seconds of doing his best goldfish impression, Keith gives a “_ yessir _” that earns him a crooked grin from Shiro. 

“Good boy,” Shiro croons as he hits play on a song. 

It’s slow and rolling, with a syrupy sort of harmonization at the beginning. The bass on the speakers rumble as Shiro starts to unbutton his shirt, and Keith’s blood pressure shoots through the roof as Shiro gives him another sly look.

Keith tries his best to stay present, but his soul proceeds to float out of his body. And yet, he’s still able to experience the following:

Shiro striding towards him, gently kicking out Keith’s ankles so that his legs are spread as he sits on the sofa. Not so gently, Shiro tugs the pillow out from Keith’s grasp and throws it on the floor with a sunny smile before he steps back.

There’s not a lot of space in the apartment to work with, so Shiro stalks up to Keith in no time.

It’s hard to deny that Shiro’s a natural at this. Or that he’s had some sort of classical dance training, because he moves towards Keith in a controlled and precise manner Keith’s only seen in movies. Or that Keith’s just completely blinded by how searingly hot Shiro looks when he moves to the beat. 

Keith leans forward in his seat and Shiro catches it, sliding back one step, just out of reach. It’s hypnotic how he moves and hypnotic how he winks at Keith before moving into his space again.

“Still feeling awkward?” Shiro asks, looming over Keith. 

Keith barely hears the question because Shiro’s large hands are deftly untucking his shirt and popping open the remaining buttons. Shiro yanks off his shirt so forcefully that it stuns Keith, giving Shiro enough room to sling the shirt around Keith’s neck. He tugs, bringing Keith close to the same area Keith’s been trying very hard not to stare at. In an effort to not get hypnotized by it, Keith looks up at him owlishly. In a small mercy, Shiro’s still got an undershirt on.

“I’ve uh,” _ not even dreamt this in my wildest dreams_. Keith tries to pinch himself surreptitiously but he does not wake up on a crumpled stack of papers in his bed. He does however, get Shiro cupping his face with his hand, a cool metal finger swiping over Keith’s bottom lip.

The action shoots straight to Keith’s core, before it travels further south. He folds his hands over his lap immediately, but Shiro doesn’t laugh this time. He lets go completely and starts to dig his thumbs into the waistband of his pants but Keith interrupts him almost instantly.

“If you take those off,” Keith says with the most amount of firmness he’s managed to muster up all evening. “I’m going to embarrass myself, probably loudly, and then I’ll have to drop out of school completely because I won’t be able to look you in the eye.”

It’s overly honest. Shiro’s cool facade almost breaks and Keith can tell that he wants to laugh and is barely stopping himself from doing so. But his face settles into something more- more _ pleased_. 

“That’s fine. I won’t do anything you don’t want. But I think I know what you’d like,” Shiro says, and Keith might be imagining it but Shiro’s voice has dropped half an octave. “Let me try?”

Keith thinks he says yes. Because Shiro uses the shirt slung around his neck to tug him closer and props one leg onto the couch as he brings Keith’s face close to his zipper again. Shiro moves himself in a way that makes Keith inhale sharply.

It’s entrancing and it takes all that Keith’s got to not pant like a dog. Shiro tosses the shirt to the side and presses Keith back into the sofa by his shoulder, before propping a hand on each side of Keith’s head. He swings his other leg onto Keith’s lap, and Keith clenches his fists so that they don’t land on and grope Shiro’s thighs.

Shiro then does a move with his hips so wicked, that Keith’s brain completely melts. Keith’s never felt like such a slave to his instincts before, and any vestige of embarrassment he had been feeling earlier has vanished. All he needs to do is focus on not accidentally coming in his pants when the first song’s not even over yet.

“Buh…” the sound escapes Keith’s mouth, and Shiro drops his weight down onto Keith’s lap. “Oh _ shi _-”

Shiro grinds down on him, just above his hipbones so that Keith can feel all the tease and none of the friction. There’s so much power and control and Shiro looks down between them, biting his lower lip in concentration. Keith lets out a squeak and slams his head back into the backrest of the couch, blunt nails digging into his palm as the smell of Shiro’s cologne washes over him.

“Eyes on me, babe,” Shiro commands, and Keith hadn’t even realized he had scrunched his eyes shut. When he opens them Shiro’s moving his legs again, bringing them between Keith’s.

Slowly, sinuously, Shiro slides down onto his knees. He peers up through his eyelashes at Keith and pushes Keith’s hands away from his lap. Keith tries to tell himself that the cargo shorts do a great job of hiding any kind of evidence for the most part. But the searing look Shiro gives him tells Keith that he knows anyways.

Two hands slide up Keith’s thighs, pushing up his shorts as Shiro licks his lips again. Not allowed to cover himself anymore, Keith bites his knuckles and looks away before he gets too excited. He feels Shiro grab his calves and slide them into the crook of his elbows, curving his hands around Keith’s thighs.

Suddenly, Keith’s getting yanked forward till his back hits the seat of the couch. Shiro sits up and tugs his tank top off, revealing a torso that’s as sculpted as Keith’s fantasized about it being. Keith doesn’t get time to appreciate it though, because Shiro pulls Keith’s legs over his shoulders and starts to—

Keith’s going to die and go to the afterlife. There’s no other option. There’s no other possible reaction he can have to Shiro rolling his hips against Keith to the beat of the song, like they’re making love on the ratty old couch.

“Oh my god,” Keith breathes. Arches a little. He’s a simple man who’s about to give into his simple needs very soon. It’s the only possible reaction he can have when he’s supine and his crush is holding on to him, imitating putting in some real work while the music slides from one sultry song to another. 

Shiro leans forward, bending Keith as he continues to move against him. He keeps a hair’s width distance in between them and while Keith doesn’t roll his hips down against Shiro out of respect, he is screaming on the inside. Shiro pushes till his hands are planted beside Keith’s head and Keith’s near folded in half.

“Flexible,” Shiro comments, but his face belies his idle tone. His expression is dark, and a deep pink tinges his cheeks as he looks down at Keith. “Are you…”

_ Enjoying it? Trying not to die? Extremely hard? _ Keith makes an affirmative noise, assuming Shiro’s asking one of those three questions because he’s currently feeling all of it in full force. Shiro exhales quietly and suddenly, Keith’s world is getting upturned.

In a flash of a second, he finds the positions swapped, Shiro seating himself on the couch as he makes Keith straddle him. Keith can’t help it; involuntarily, he twitches against Shiro’s thick thighs and has to bite his tongue to keep his groan at bay. He wants to run his palms so badly over Shiro’s bare chest and feel every dip and ridge and muscle.

“God, look at you,” Shiro says, sliding his hands slowly once again over Keith’s thighs. “If you want me to stop any of this, tell me.”

He’s not quite sure what Shiro’s going to do, but Keith nods along anyways. Shiro thumbs tentatively at the junction of Keith’s thighs before pulling one hand back and sliding it below his own waistband. He adjusts something and suddenly—

Keith’s eyes bug out of his head as he sees Shiro’s just as hard as he is. Impressively so too.

“You…” Keith can’t help but place a palm against Shiro’s sternum, craving some sort of skin-on-skin contact. Shiro is warm and solid underneath him, and Keith licks his lips, trying to think of words. 

Shiro watches him like a hawk, resuming his grip on Keith’s hips. He lifts Keith up enough to move him right where he wants him and Keith manages to mumble out a, “Yeah- _ yeah_-”

As if he knows what Keith’s preemptively agreeing too, Shiro brings Keith down on his lap just as he thrusts himself up. The friction sends stars through Keith’s vision and a hot jolt of pleasure through his spine. Shiro repeats the movement and Keith doesn’t recognize the sound that spills out of his own mouth.

“Shit- _ Shiro_,” Keith’s voice is hoarse, and Shiro bites his lower lip as he thrusts up again, sending Keith falling forward.

“Is this okay?” Shiro says and Keith nods furiously, not wanting Shiro to stop for even a moment. Shiro is big against him in all sense of the word, and Keith wants to burn this experience permanently into his memories.

It’s still to the beat of the song, slow and drawn out. Keith whimpers, curls both his hands against Shiro’s chest before giving into his urge to roll back against Shiro. They’ve still got their pants on and they’re going to make a total mess, but Keith could care less.

Shiro’s grip on him is almost bruising and it makes Keith’s toes curl. He’s still scared that he’s going to wake up, completely passed out in the smaller library on campus, and that this was all an overcomplicated, over-horny dream.

“I’m not doing this because you’re paying me,” Shiro says through clenched teeth, cutting through Keith’s train of thought.

Something in Shiro’s tone makes Keith snap and any sort of inhibition he’s got flies out the window, gone forever. He launches forward and Shiro’s on the same wavelength because he pushes up to meet Keith in a ferocious kiss.

“Holy fuck,” Keith breathes in between the sloppy kiss, and Shiro starts to pick up the pace. Now that he’s latched on, Keith doesn’t want to let go of Shiro at _ all_. He tastes like sweet mint, and he’s licking into Keith’s mouth with an eagerness Keith hasn’t felt before.

Shiro uses his tongue with the same amount of finesse as he uses his body, and Keith is a ruined man. He’s trying his best not to attack Shiro but the enthusiasm with which Shiro responds with tells him the hunger is reciprocal.

They lose the rhythm but it doesn’t matter; Keith’s grinding down in Shiro’s lap with all he’s got, eager to show and eager to please. He presses himself in a line against Shiro’s broad front and Shiro encourages it, melting the two of them into the couch. 

Keith burns at the thought of doing this without clothes, bare skin on skin, and he prays to a higher power that this isn’t the only chance he gets. 

“Keith- _ ah_,” Shiro’s voice tapers off into a groan, and Keith feels the vibrations of it throughout this entire body as he comes. 

To his credit, he doesn’t get too loud, but that’s only because he’s got Shiro’s mouth to muffle his own noises. Shiro clings onto him as he follows Keith, ducking his head so that he can kiss Keith’s neck instead.

Keith feels like he’s floating on the come down. The ball of stress that had been winding tight in his core seems to have unwound, leaving his entire body feeling like jelly in Shiro’s arms. Shame and humiliation are distant memories for him, ones that will undoubtedly come hurtling back like an asteroid at a later time.

Shiro’s still holding onto him, running a hand down Keith’s spine. There’s a vague feeling of being sticky and gross, but Shiro slides his hand under Keith’s tank-top and Keith’s too blissed out to care. There’s also a sense of disbelief that Keith just got off with the guy he’s being crushing on forever.

The cool metal is a welcome touch that calms him down, and Keith gets captured in another kiss. This one’s more chaste, even after Keith gives a cursory swipe over Shiro’s bottom lip with his tongue. Shiro’s other hand slides up to card through Keith’s hair, keeping him in place above Shiro.

“I should’ve probably taken you on a date first,” Shiro says, the corner of his mouth ticking up. “Sorry. Probably shouldn’t have done this on a job either.”

There’s nothing Shiro should be apologizing for. He’s made all of Keith’s dreams come true, and Keith’s just eager to know if and when it can happen again.

“It’s okay,” Keith babbles. “You can come to the shop where I work. We can get even in the back room.”

Shiro grins, and the hand on Keith’s back slides further down to grab at his ass. “Yeah?”

Keith works at a shitty electronics store where he got promoted to assistant manager after the owner forgot to hire a replacement for the one he fired. He spends most of his shifts recounting the inventory for USB keys because the actual manager is disorganized. Keith would love nothing more than have Shiro come in and disrupt his work.

Speaking of, Keith remembers something Shiro had said earlier on. Shiro cranes his neck up to kiss Keith again, but Keith shifts and presses his index finger against Shiro’s mouth.

“Wait,” Keith says, and Shiro raises his eyebrows. “You said you thought you might know what I like. How?”

It’s very direct, and elicits a quiet laugh from Shiro. “I’ve spent some time thinking about it.” 

“How long?” Keith prods further. 

“Long enough,” Shiro replies, and shifts so that he’s sitting up straighter against the couch. He tugs Keith closer, body radiating heat. “Long enough to tell you that my offer for dinner isn’t strictly friendly. Just in case you didn’t pick up on it before.”

Shiro’s caught onto the fact that Keith’s searching for something to tease him with, and is quickly turning the tables. Keith’s kind of glad that he’s caught it, but he’s not got enough brainpower to process the gravity of the fact that any kind of infatuation he’s had has been reciprocated. Right now, he’s just feeling giddy.

“I...knew that,” he says, and Shiro raises an eyebrow.

“Did you?” He asks, sarcastic tinge to his words. Keith gives him a flat look, but reaches up to brush Shiro’s bangs back off his forehead. 

“Shut up,” Keith says in as dignified a tone as possible. “How much longer do I have you for?”

Keith doesn’t actually have a solid plan. He’d be content just sitting in Shiro’s lap for the rest of their time before letting him go. But the gears in his head have finally started spinning, and Keith’s already planning where to take Shiro for their first date.

“All night baby,” Shiro winks at him. “You don’t even have to pay for the rest.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but doesn’t hide the pleased sound that spills out of him when Shiro flips them over again. Shiro adjusts them so that they’re sprawled along the length of the couch, even though they’re too big for it. Keith’s legs automatically hook around Shiro’s trim waist and he pulls Shiro down. 

“Good,” Keith replies, feels Shiro smile against his mouth right before he tugs him into another kiss. “Because I’m broke as hell.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [*rolls up window and drives away*](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DbNrNfq5f6A)
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://phaltu.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/tagteamme)!!


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